


This Is My Truth...

by NorthernStar



Series: Jesse's Journey [1]
Category: Diagnosis Murder
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-06
Updated: 2012-05-06
Packaged: 2017-11-04 22:58:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/399133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthernStar/pseuds/NorthernStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve has a secret and he decides it's time to confide in Jesse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is My Truth...

**Author's Note:**

> Set about 10 months after Jesse joined Community General.

**_ 'In the middle of the journey of life, I woke and found myself in a dark wood, and the known path was totally lost _ ** **... ** **_ ' _ ** __

_ Dante, ‘Inferno’ _

Steve glanced back at the graffiti covered house. The blonde woman he’d interviewed moments before had already bent down to slosh her sponge in the soapy bucket at her feet. He watched her taller, darker partner bring out a stronger abrasive and lay a comforting arm around the smaller woman. She accepted the comfort for a brief moment then returned to attack the bright yellow graffiti sprayed on their door. The words ‘pervert’ and ‘sicko’ defying removal.

It angered him that people could be so vindictive and judgmental. Who was to say one type of love was superior to another? 

Steve had seen far worse than this and normally a lieutenant wouldn’t be called upon to visit a simple case of graffiti, egg throwing and homophobia. But Steve liked to come out to the victims of this sort of abuse privately. He wanted to make sure the crimes were properly reported and filed, that they’d know the police took this spate of gay bashing seriously. 

And so that they’d know there were some members of the force who knew what they were going through.

Steve had come out as a homosexual, at least to himself, some months before his thirtieth birthday, spurned on by his close friendship with another detective, John Bailey. Although no relationship had formed between them, he had been introduced to Bailey’s older brother Neil to whom he’d been almost frighteningly attracted. The feeling had proved mutual and things had progressed, slowly, from there. Telling his father had been one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do.

Mark had been shocked; maybe even a disappointed, although he hid it well. He had made no objections but at first he’d been quiet and sometimes uncomfortable around Neil. The strain had worn on the relationship and the pair had drifted apart after a year. Steve had had a couple of other male lovers in that time, and with each Mark’s comfort levels grew. He loved his father for doing his best under very confusing circumstances, and tried not to be too hurt that his father seemed doubly pleased each time he was pushed into dating a girl for appearances sake.

The woman’s voice murmured through Steve’s mind as he turned the ignition key. _“I thought I could trust him… I only told him because… I didn’t wanna live a lie anymore.”_ She had scrubbed harder at the graffiti in her anger and repeated. “ _I thought I could trust him!”_

***** 

Jesse had ‘that look’ again, Steve noticed the following day when he was collecting forensic reports from Community General. The one that spoke of a hectic 10 hour shift behind him and the worry of a pile of medical journals ahead of him. Steve watched him chuck his empty coffee cup into the bin and immediately order another from the machine beside it.

“Rough day?” He asked as he approached the doctor.

Jesse looked up, “yeah. There was a gas explosion at the building site off Main…” He looked like he wanted to say more but couldn’t. Instead he sank into a chair and swallowed his second coffee. Steve clapped his arm and moved over to the vending machine. He ordered 3 Mars bars, two for Jess and one for him.

“Here.” He said, putting the confectionery in front of the exhausted doctor.

Jesse waved his cup. “Need more coffee. Driving.” 

Steve smiled at the familiar shorthand uttered by the overly tired.

“No need. I’ll drive you.”

“My car…”

“You can leave it in the lot for the night and I’ll ask my Dad to swing by your house on his way to work tomorrow.”

“Mark’s not-”

“Jess, you’re falling asleep as it is. You’re not fit to drive.”

Too fatigued to argue, Jesse fetched his jacket and followed Steve. He snagged another cup of coffee on his way out of the cafeteria, but he was still asleep long before Steve’s car had hit the freeway.

*****

Steve helped Jesse into the Beach house and laid him on the sofa. The doctor woke enough to walk, and to murmur that he couldn’t stay long. Smiling, Steve removed the young man’s shoes and watched his breathing deepen as he all but collapsed into slumber.

He decided to fix himself a coffee and read through some case notes before bed. Or at least, that’s what he told himself he was doing. Instead he found himself an hour later, sitting in the chair across from Jesse, sipping cooling coffee; case notes open but untouched in his lap, watching Jesse sleep. 

Jesse looked so young, especially asleep. His lips slightly parted, eye lashes long against the tired smudges under his eyes. He couldn’t help being attracted to him. But attracted was not the same as actively desiring a relationship. Jesse didn’t just look young; he _was_ young, even if only in comparison to Steve. They’d not known each other all that long to see very much beyond surface beauty. And Jesse had not indicated he found men sexually attractive.

His father disturbed his thoughts at that moment, emerging from his room, white hair eschew, but his eyes bright. Mark’s eyes fell on Jesse as he walked around the sofa.

“He fell asleep while I was driving him home.” Steve explained, “Thought it’d be easier if he stayed over.”

Mark frowned. Jesse’s place was a little closer to the hospital than the Sloan’s house, but he let it slide. “Well it doesn’t look like an earthquake could get him off that sofa.” He said. “I’ll go get the guest blankets.”

His father disappeared for a few moments and came back with an armful of pillows and quilts. Steve smiled at the wistful expression on his father’s face as he carefully tucked Jesse in and eased a pillow under his head. The doctor didn’t even stir.

“He did some good work today.” Mark mused, “Reacted better in the emergencies than someone with twice his experience.”

Steve smiled, “he had a good teacher.”

“I have a good student.” Standing up, Mark looked questioningly at his son. “Cocoa?”

“Sure.”

Mark led his son into the kitchen where they could talk at normal volume without fear of waking Jesse. He began to make the cocoa as they swapped small bites of information about their days. When their drinks were finished, the pair settled at the table and sipped in silence for a while.

“Dad, I’ve been thinking…” Steve began, “…about Jesse.”

Mark frowned, “what about him?”

“Well, he’s…ah, helped us out a lot, for a start. And he often drops by on weekends, and stays for dinner at least two nights a week…”

His father’s gaze became ever so slightly guarded. “So?”

“So I guess what I’m saying is…he’s a friend.” He looked straight at Mark. “I said at the beginning I wouldn’t lie or pretend with friends.”

Resignation rather than enlightenment filled his father’s features. “It had crossed my mind,” he admitted. “But I’m surprised at the timing. You knew Jack a long time before…” His voice trailed off and Steve tried hard not to feel sadness at his father’s inability to say, ‘ _you told him you were gay.’_

“Yeah, maybe. But Jesse’s a lot more open than Jack. And younger…” _And what? A teeny, tiny part of you hopes he’ll ‘fess up to being gay too?_ “But mostly, I guess, this couple I interviewed earlier today got me thinking. I don’t enjoy pretending, Dad. Its feels too much like lying.”

“I know, son.” Mark said, even though they both knew he couldn’t really understand, no matter how much he tried, no matter how much he wanted too.

“I just feel like it’s the right thing to do.”

“But is it the right time?”

“If it’s not, it probably never will be.” 

“Steve…Jesse’s a fine young man and I think the world of him…”

“But?”

“But I can’t help being worried. You can’t afford the wrong people finding out. I know that’s not fair. I know that’s not right. I’m sorry.”

“I know, Dad.” He said, and put his empty mug in the sink. “But this is something I’ve got to do.” He clapped his father’s shoulder before leaving. “G’night.”

Mark sat alone in the kitchen for a long time and tried not to worry.

*****

Jesse woke once in the night, from a combination of an unfamiliar bed and the creepy sensation of being watched. As soon as his sleep addled mind recognised the Sloan’s house; he drifted back off.

When he awoke again it was to the sound of frying eggs and the delicious smell of toast and coffee. He pulled himself upright and thanked God for his compact frame. It had enabled him to sleep quite comfortably on a small sofa that would put a nasty crick in the back of a larger man. His clothes felt rumpled and sweaty for having been slept in and his tongue was coated in a thick fur.

“Morning, Jess.” Steve said as he followed the smell of breakfast into the kitchen. The detective’s hair was still damp from his shower and gobbled his meal like a man who knew he was late for work.

Jesse smiled at the sight of ‘morning Steve’ and decided he liked it. “Um…Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“How did I…I mean, I’m grateful and all, but….I don’t remember…”

Steve smiled at his awkwardness. “Staying over?” Jess nodded. “You didn’t, exactly. You fell asleep in my car; I thought it’d be easier to bring you here.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re welcome to crash here whenever you like.”

The young doctor was silent a moment, mulling that over. Then he remembered his manners and added, “Thanks.”

Steve smiled and got up. Dumping his plate in with last night’s dirty mugs, he lingered only long enough to pour Jesse a glass of juice. He placed it in front of the young man, who looked up at him with a little confusion. 

“Thanks.” Jesse said again.

“Feel free to make yourself something and have a shower.” Steve said, “Dad’ll be up soon. I have to go.” He paused. “And, um, I’m heading over to the Grove tonight, do you wanna join me?”

Jesse couldn’t keep the delight from his face. He hadn’t made many good friends since arriving in California and while he really liked Steve, he’d thought the detective would probably not have enough in common with him to want to have any sort of close friendship. Obviously he’d been wrong. “Sure!”

*******

The Grove was a small, relaxed bar favoured by off-duty officers from Steve’s precinct, which was a stone’s throw away. Steve usually went there for a couple of beers most Fridays and occasionally on weekends. Work was left outside and the atmosphere was always friendly and pleasant.

Jesse arrived late. His car had been dented in its impromptu overnight stay in Community General’s parking lot and the resulting body-shop repair bill would very likely cancel his holiday plans. 

Steve saw him first and waved him over. Jesse took his place at the table and found a beer already waiting for him.

“Sorry I’m late.”

They exchanged the usual small talk and Steve was sympathetic over the Bug’s little accident. But when the niceties were over with, a silence fell. 

Steve took the opportunity to observe his friend and consider what he was about to begin. Jesse had changed into a loose black shirt and a pair of artfully worn jeans that hugged his narrow hips most enticingly. He still looked younger than his years, but less so than he often did in scrubs.

“What?” Jesse said eventually, a confused edge to his voice.

Steve realised with a stab of horror that he’d been staring. “Oh…I’m just caught up in a case. I’m sorry.”

“Anything I can help you with?” 

Steve shook his head, “just some nasty graffiti.” He chuckled, “sometimes it’s the little things that get to you more than the bad stuff.”

“Yeah.” Jesse nodded, “it’s the same with medicine. I’ve told people they’ve got cancer, that their gonna lose their arm or their legs, but the thing that’ll keep me up at night is making some little 3 year old cry when I give her a shot.”

“Actually, Jess.” Steve began, “there was a reason I asked you along tonight.” 

The sudden flash of disappointment in Jesse’s eyes surprised him. But then professionalism took over and Jesse straightened up in the chair. Steve felt inexplicably proud of the young man at that moment.

“What is it? Is it Mark?” 

The detective smiled at Jesse’s immediate concern for his teacher. “No, he’s fine.” And he took another mouthful of beer. “It’s…well, it’s me I wanted to talk about to you about.”

“You?” Jesse’s hand moved to take Steve’s, but then the doctor hesitated and settled for leaning forward. “OK, are you tired? Nauseous? Stressed?”

“In my job? All the time, but that’s not what I wanted to tell you.”

Still in full diagnostic mode, Jesse grew alarmed; “you haven’t found a lump have you?”

At that Steve actually laughed, “no, Jesse. It’s got nothing to do with my health.”

“Oh. I just thought ‘cos I’m a doctor…”

Steve found the annoyed confusion on the young man’s face delightful. “It’s got nothing to do with you being a doctor and everything to do with you being a friend.”

Jesse chewed his lip and Steve almost groaned at the unconscious sensuality of his friend right now. Had the circumstances been different – very different – he would have claimed that lovely mouth with his own. The realisation was like a bucket of ice. Altruistic attentions, not wanting to lie to his friend, aside, Steve could no longer hide from his desire to hear Jesse reciprocate his confession.

“Steve?”

He realised he’d been lost in thought. “Sorry. Look, Jess…” He let out a breath, “I don’t like living lies, even if it’s just the ‘of admission’ type.”

Anger clouded Jesse’s eyes, “I haven’t lied to you or Mark!”

Steve hurried to clear up the misunderstanding. “No! I know that. I mean, I’ve lied to you. At least as far as allowing you to think something that isn’t true.” 

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m gay, Jesse.”

*****

Jesse felt the air constrict in his lungs and felt his cheeks flush bright red.

“I’ve wanted to tell you for a while.” Steve continued, ploughing on, oblivious to the sick feeling coiling in Jesse’s gut. “I wanted to be honest with you.”

He found his voice and his words came out almost as a breath. “Does Mark know?”

“Yes. Like I said, I don’t like living lies.”

“But you… I’ve seen you date woman.”

“But not for long. I prefer men.” He tried to smile in a reassuring manner, but looked more patronising than anything. “I’m still me. It’s just now you’ve got a better idea of who I am.”

“Yeah…yeah. I know…” 

Jesse’s heart was beating so loud, racing with a heady mix of shock-induced adrenaline and a sweaty, sick flush he couldn’t even begin to identify or want to deal with. “Look, I-I gotta use the men’s room…”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He forced his legs to go slow when they wanted to run to safety, refusing to let Steve see the hard time he was having with this. True, no one had ever confessed this sort of thing to him before, but he’d always considered himself to have very liberal and open views, especially on sexuality. Learning that he was just as Victorian and prudish as the other 80-odd percent of the globe hit him hard.

He reached the perceived haven of the toilets, wrinkling his noise at the terrible smell. A deep well of shame rose up and he hated himself for his behaviour. Even though he didn’t need to use the facilities, he did need something to distract him, so he stood at a urinal and unzipped. 

A large man entered the men’s room and took up position next to Jesse. He casually leered at the doctor and Jesse hurriedly finished, zipped and was out of the door in under 30 seconds. 

*****

Steve ordered another set of beers and stared at the closed men’s room doors as if he could make them open through sheer force of will. He hated the ugly feeling of fear that had taken up residence in his gut. Steve had never taken himself for a coward, yet he was experiencing an overwhelming sense of fear at the realisation he may have just lost Jesse’s fledgling friendship. 

What was it…about Jesse?… about this friendship at least, that made Jesse’s understanding and acceptance so vitally important?

The young man in question interrupted his thoughts, seating himself on the stool opposite and reaching out for the peanuts. Jesse’s thumb brushed the inside of Steve’s wrist sending a rush of blood coursing through the detective’s veins to pool in his groin. Jesse snatched his hand back and the resulting flash of anger Steve felt rid him of any arousal.

The doctor looked down, ashamed. “Sorry.”

Still annoyed, Steve stood up. “Look, Jess, I can see you’re uncomfortable with this. Why don’t we call it a night?”

“No, Steve…” Jesse got up as well. “I’m sorry. I’m fine. Really. Just…s-surprised.” 

His words stumbled over each other and the faint glimmer of moisture in his eyes, accompanied by confusion and a healthy dose of guilt, took the edge out of Steve’s anger.

Jesse wasn’t disgusted, nor was he bigoted or thoughtless. 

Jesse was scared. 

Of what, Steve didn’t know. But he knew it wasn’t of him.

“I know.” Steve replied, and smiled. “But I still think we should turn in, it’s getting late and we both have early starts tomorrow.”

“Yeah…”

******

Jesse tossed and turned all night in a bed that felt unusually cold and empty, trying to shut up his busy head. When he did tumble in a fitful sleep just as dawn tinged the sky a pinkish-yellow, he was haunted by a thousand schoolyard taunts.

His alarm had pulled him from his ugly dreams a little after seven and he’d forced himself to rise. The messy haired, bleary-eyed man who stared back at him from the bathroom mirror was especially hateful this morning.

By the end of the first half of his shift he had hit on more nurses than in his entire internment so far. Mark had commented worriedly on it, and on the intensity of his focus. He’d received a tense reply. Eventually his teacher had sort him out in the cafeteria during lunch break.

******

Jesse was picking at a large plate of pasta when Mark found him. He put down his own lunch and sat on the chair opposite Jesse. Mark frowned at whatever Jesse was pushing around with his fork; it looked vaguely like carrot.

“Have you found out what it died of yet?”

Jesse looked up. “Huh?”

“Well you were examining your food so closely I assume your conducting an autopsy.”

The young man attempted a smile then began to eat the unappetising mush with stilted and awkward movements.

“Jesse, if you want to talk about it…”

Jesse tossed his fork down. “Look, Mark, I appreciate your worrying about me, but I really don’t want to talk about it.”

Mark sighed and abandoned any thought of his own lunch. “Steve told you, didn’t he?”

Jesse looked surprised. “You know about that?”

“Yes, of course. I’m his father.”

“And you’re OK with that?”

“Yes.” Mark said frankly. “Aren’t you?”

Jesse’s mouth flapped up and down a bit, lost for words. “Well, yeah, sure, of course.” He said hurriedly. Then he shrugged. “Anyway, it’s none of my business, is it?”

Except, in a way, Steve had made it his business, by telling him.

“No. No, it isn’t.”

The remark sounded more cutting than Mark had intended and Jesse looked down. “I know I’m acting like a jerk, OK? It just…bothers me.”

There, it was out. Mark recognised truth when he heard it and quietly applauded the young man for his honesty. Admissions like that were not easy to make.

“I can understand that. And believe it or not, Steve does too.”

“Does he?” 

“He had to face his own discomfort. I imagine this is nothing compared to that.”

“Yeah, I guess…” He thought for a long moment. “Does it ever bother you?”

“Oh, sure, at first. But I love my son, he’s a good man and I’m proud of him. That’s all that matters.”

“So you…got used to it?”

He nodded. “It took time. More time than I care to admit, but you know what I realised? It had nothing to do with Steve. It was me. I was grieving. Grieving for an ideal society puts on us. One that dictates marriage, a home, a wife, kids, two dogs and a white wicker fence. That’s not Steve’s future, but just because what is will be different doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

Jesse quietly considered this.

Mark smiled. “It’s OK to feel you need time to adjust to this.” Then he noticed Jesse’s eyes were no longer on him, but fixed on the spot just behind him.

He turned in his seat to see his son standing there. Steve’s eyes glittered with unshed tears and Mark realised with a start he'd heard everything his father had said about him.

Mark got up. He’d forgotten over time to apologise for his lack of understanding all those years ago.

“Dad…I…”

Mark pulled his son into a quick embrace. “I know, son, I know.”

Jesse shuffled awkwardly in his chair, and felt absurdly relieved when his beeper chose that moment to go off.

“I have to go.” He said, standing. He looked over at Steve, still uncomfortable with the detective, but knowing at least that it would pass. “I’m…I’m glad you told me.”

Steve nodded and he left. Friendship intact, but radically altered.


End file.
